


Congratulations

by orphan_account



Series: Captain Pan One-Shots [4]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, Song fic, robin was requested by friend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-23
Updated: 2014-06-23
Packaged: 2018-02-05 22:29:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1834477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s been years—three to be exact—since the man last step foot on this wooden deck. He closed his eyes savoring the sound of oak underneath his leather boots. He lugged a duffel bag over his shoulder, proceeding his way down the long dock. His sapphire eyes brightened and his smile grew noticing the dark figger in front of him. </p><p>“Peter?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Congratulations

It’s been years—three to be exact—since the man last step foot on this wooden deck. He closed his eyes savoring the sound of oak underneath his leather boots. He lugged a duffel bag over his shoulder, proceeding his way down the long dock. His sapphire eyes brightened and his smile grew noticing the dark figger in front of him.

“Peter?” The figger turned his green eyes shining like emeralds in the golden sunlight.

The man held his bag tight to his chest, a small lump formed in his throat and his body trembled with every step closer to the boy.

When he approached and they were face to face, the figger’s light brown locks sweeping away in the wind he about cried. The boy smiled at him his own eyes swimming in tears.

“Killian,” he whispered his voice noticeably deeper than the last time they saw each other. The man sighed dragging his shaky fingers along the boy’s face.

“Peter, Peter, Peter,” he repeated dropping his bag to the ground grasping onto the boys cheeks. The boy sniffled closing his eyes leaning into the calloused hands. The man bit his lip, “I’ve missed you, Peter.”

Their mouths connect neither one quite sure who initiated it, but they embraced it. Their pink lips moving in a slow rhythm, smooth against chapped just like the old days. Their tongues fight, fingers thread through the boy’s locks, hands clench the man’s leather jacket.

They’re left panting foreheads pressed against each other’s, the man’s eyes are closed, but the boy’s are open. They admire the man taking in his new complexion—the tan of his skin, the red of his cheeks, and the always present black scruff surrounding his jaw. He feels the tiniest sliver of guilt enter his blood, soon to surround his whole aura.

“I’m so sorry.” The man opens his eyes, sapphire connecting with emerald. He didn’t question the blunt apology and instead picked up his bag following the boy’s lead to the forest green pickup truck.

The ride to the boy’s apartment was silent with the man watching the old buildings and people he used to know go by in a constant blur. They arrived around sunset, Killian eager to relive old memories in the comfort of the boy’s bedroom between the cotton sheets.

One step through the apartment and the bag was discarded, hands roamed over the boy’s body, lips drinking in his familiar scent. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“Killian, stop,” and the man did.

“Peter?” He was confused, stepping back with his eyebrow raised. The boy appeared ashamed gaze on the ground hiding from his wide, puzzled eyes.

“We can’t do this, not now, not tonight, not-,” he paused, “Good night, Killian, your room is down the hall to the left.” The man nodded abiding the boy’s orders a slight hollowness spreading through his gut. He set his bag onto the carpet floor, stripping his attire.

He couldn’t sleep that night tossing and turning unable to find comfort in the thin sheets. He thought of the boy, the feel of his pink lips pressed against his, his ghostly presence surrounding him—haunting him.

The morning came with bacon it’s sent filling the air. The man sighed rolling off the mattress, lazily tossing on a pair of pajama pants. He washed the sleepiness from his face in the bathroom sink anticipating the day’s events.

He could see Peter from the bedroom’s door. He was seated on the dining room table, glass of red wine in his right hand, and a wide, toothy grin plastered on his face. So, he leaned against the doorframe admiring the boy, beaming at his beauty, but the smile fades when he hears another. The voice is low much like another man’s. He doesn’t spot the owner though, only the way the boy’s laughs seemingly echoes throughout the whole apartment.

The man turned back into the room, redressing into the right guest attire, then he turns back to the doorway and freezes in his spot. He sees the voice’s owner standing between the boy’s legs, their mouths are smashed together, Peter’s arms and legs holding the stranger tight.

Killian can’t imagine the appearance of his face at the moment, maybe his eyes are wide, maybe his jaw is on the floor, but when his eyes catch Peter’s the look of shame returns to his physique.  The boy pushes the stranger away standing from the table. The stranger notices him down the hall, he speaks words Killian can’t hear, but the gentle kiss to the boy’s hair and his exit from the room tells him everything.

“Come here, Killian,” and he walks.

“You have a boyfriend?”

“No.”

“Is he your lover?”

“No.”.

“What is he then?”

Peter tells him everything, every little dirty detail of his story without him. He explains how for the first year Killian was gone that he couldn’t sleep, he couldn’t make peace with himself that for three years he would be on his own—eighteen living alone in an apartment that haunted him every time he turned around.

The stranger, Robin, was one of his flings he had who after the third night became his fuck buddy. He goes more in depth with how after only fucking for six months Felix asked to try more—to be more—and they dated. They did everything Killian and he would do.

“We got engaged last month.” The man rubs his fingers through his hair a lump swelling inside his throat.

“Does he make you happy?”

“Yes.”

“Really, truly happy?”

“Yes.”

“Then, I approve. I’m happy for you. I’m glad you’ve found someone to spend your life with.” His heart beats in cold, painful rhythms each pulse like a shard of glass piercing the delicate organ. He was visibly shaking in his seat, bottom lip quivering, lashes damp with tears—he felt broken.

Peter smiled embracing the man into a tight hug, “Thank you, Killian, for understanding.”

“You’re welcome, and Peter?” the boy looked up. Killian took hold of his not-so-young face into his hands once again. The pain pumping through his veins was strong, he wanted to collapse into a mess on the floor, because he was in love with this boy—always has been.

He loved him since that first day at the local high school yard where he spotted the boy wrestling with his friends. They had connected eyes across the lot and remet later in a coffee shop where they talked for hours. Never had they gone public about their relationship, not to friends or family, but they fell in love all the same—a sixteen year old boy with a twenty-seven year old man. But the man was called away, forced to choose between Peter and a dream of his.

Killian would’ve gladly chosen Peter picked him over any dream, because this boy the one who’s face he carefully holds in his hands, this boy who he love’s with every fiber of his being became his new dream—the dream who’s finger _he_ wanted to put a ring on and share his vows. But he made him leave, told him he didn’t want the man to give his life’s mission up for little o’ him, so he did—for three years. And ever since he has regretted it, because no dream was worth living without the one he loves in it.

His thumbs graze over the boy’s smooth cheeks, a few tears overflowing the dam. “God, you’re beautiful.” He presses his rough lips to the boy’s forehead shutting off the world from his sapphire jewels—more tears escaping when they reopen.

**“Congratulations.”**


End file.
